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Jasper James fights for what he wants to be, cuz function is the key. This is his first offering for the ESP Institute, and after many trials and tribulations with the pressing plants, everyone’s patience is now handsomely rewarded. On the A side, '0141' is percussion-based track utilizing a variety of overdriven metallic percussion and petite vocal snips that roll up neatly into a seductive rhythm. This is one for the hips and hands, with instrumentation chopped into short staccato spikes, Jasper invites impulsive body theatrics and the freedom to spastically express oneself. On the flip, 'E-Maniac' is a bona-fide tops-off Summer anthem if we ever heard one. What would typically qualify as an A-side banger, we’ve decided would better suit our contrarian leanings as a nice Easter egg, just to make sure you’re actually listening. This one drives hard, shuffling at a maniacal pace with gut-bending bass notes and stuttered pad stabs. These two songs will ping your pong and pong your ping.

Opal Sunn (Alex Kassian and Hiroaki OBA) believe in unicorns, leprechauns and mermaids. This is their first offering for the ESP Institute. The A side leads with 'The Problem With George', a percussive monster at a half-time tempo that goes deep with a dual mission; to successively build round after round while keeping the listeners mind and body in an ecstatic state of surrender. Imagine the dancefloor pumping, and at a dynamic peak the DJ halves the timing and wipes the floor with your spinal fluid. On the flip, 'The Mystery Of Mr Lee' takes a similar approach in terms of arc and arrangement, although replacing the analogue percussion with 16th-note arpeggios of synthetic steel, glass and tubes. Beneath this glistening veneer lies another scale-wandering melody constructed of machine toms that eventually opens up, morphing into a more decisive hook, wrapping more tightly around the drum pattern before retreating back beneath layers. If dropped at the opportune time, let’s say the sensitive blue morning before dawn cracks, we expect a dancefloors to reach the highest level of psychedelic escape, after which hugs are essential. These two songs will tuck you in and kiss you goodnight.

'Night Of The Endless Beyond', the sophomore album by Lord Of The Isles AKA Neil McDonald for the ESP Institute, had almost become a mythical piece of work. The tracks very slowly crept into formation from the lowest depths of 2021, and once the completed album finally made the leap from creation into manufacturing, an entirely new onslaught of follies and delays awaited at the pressing plant. We began to laugh, for not only did Mario Hugo’s otherworldly sleeve artwork visually translate this music so well, but it was an uncanny premonition to the album being lost in space, falling through a black hole, evaporating into the aether like a dream that never really happened. But, at long last, ground control has confirmed contact! It did happen, it will arrive, and it’s not a myth.
Listening to 'Night Of The Endless Beyond' now feels like the return of a strayed friend, one whose distance left us pining for an embrace. Although this Techno relies on unassuming means, there is a remarkably complex and persuasive emotional statement embedded here, insisting we learn to endure the long game and allow ourselves patience to investigate and appreciate the minutiae contained not only within the notes, but their negative space. From its introduction, through its mellow crests and valleys, there is a conveyance of restraint — subtle dynamics that quietly beg for attention, repetition so hypnotic that imaginary melodies are inescapable, transient peaks so deliberately scaled that we mourn the subsequent decay. In accordance with Neil’s ESP debut, 'In Waves', we never feel attacked by instrumentation but shielded from sharp edges, able to step inside the music, breathe the air it occupies and know its true intentions, whether bright or bleak.
Just prior to the album close, a film dialogue excerpt summarizes everything quite honestly by proposing, “The truth of the universe is waiting … the truth of what is … it’s all going to go away … everything … into blackness … the void … and nobody is in charge.”
“…and what do you do with that?”
We stare long into the 'Night Of The Endless Beyond' and answer… “You smile.”

Stalactite is a collaborative recording project by renown Japanese artist and multi-instrumentalist Susumu Mukai AKA Zongamin and producer Drew Brown, whose discography ranges from his own group Off World to a variety of integral productions for artists such as Blonde Redhead and Beck. Their self-titled debut for the ESP Institute is a grand gesture, a broad stroke that illustrates both singular focus and vast complexity, which is no easy feat considering the almost oppressive immediacy and availability of tools at the disposal of contemporary artists. There’s a level of creative confidence and discipline needed to work so fundamentally, and whether or not the listener has an appetite refined enough to process the tasteful subtleties throughout this production, these same subtleties accumulate regardless and land that listener in a highly considered and developed space. The deceptively naive melodic approach consistent across these nine tracks can feel transparent, familiar to a point the listener can anticipate its path, but when listening with acute focus we find a variable range of texture, temperature, depth and negative space. As alumni of the Minimal, Cold Wave, Synth Pop era, Susumu and Drew successfully personify a motley crew of synthesizers to work in concert, reduced to their core personalities and presented as their most honest selves — austere, shy, cinematic, percolating, bulbous, glistening, cantankerous, rubberized, clumsy and animated. Each masterfully paired with complimentary counterparts, these players assemble into a sound-stage we typically find in live recordings, enveloping and inviting us to the center of an acoustic cavern to wade through sonic impressions of monolithic stalactites.

Prodigal son of the ESP Institute, Juan Ramos, rises from the cesspool of a world gone mad with 'Agua Del Cenote', his fifth release with the label. Whilst many artists are following their inner light to bring us some much needed joy amidst these rotten times, Juan (being the little shit that he is) follows an inner demon and delivers listeners and dancers a demented clusterfuck of sadistic chaos. The title track opens with what sounds like a butane torch and we metaphorically freebase into oblivion. Our perception of reality unravels, writhing in abrasive textures smeared across a low-slung, mid-tempo erotic thump. Everything feels blurry and distant, as if we’re swimming through an underground aquatic tunnel, in a panic, searching for an invisible band of spirits whose tune summons us into certain annihilation. Following this is a remix from a decorated lord of 20th Century electronics, Harald Grosskopf AKA The Synthesist. Harald wipes away grit and lethargy to reveal elements hidden deep within the mix as well as softens Juan’s sense of terror by building up to an optimistic layer of added synth. We’d love to offer some relief with the balance of the EP, however, the remaining two tracks paint complimentary hues in the same cerebral palette. 'Let It Go (Freaks Only)' veers closely to House in terms of tempo and gestalt, utilizing a vocal sample from Third Generation (Kerri Chandler) and a healthy dose of sub bass, but Juan hardly apologizes for his masochistic tendencies and certainly never relents into an uplifting mood. Closing the EP, Juan serves an antidote of sorts with 'Cuko', as if suggesting a way out of the swamp, but leaves it up to the listener’s intuition to not only see the carrot, but actually follow it into the light, thus completing the quest.

In pairing words with art, the ESP Institute often does everything journalists hate. We drown the reader in hyperbole, abstractions as opposed to didactic or literal depictions, and paint the press release with superlatives that construct an existential struggle around the art and its conditions. To articulate our reasoning behind collaborating with the artist, or the synergy between their work and our catalogue, is sometimes so challenging that crossing that finish line is achingly delayed. Patrick Conway’s 2xLP 'Cellular Housekeeping', his fourth release with the label, is one of these works so monumentally exciting for us that we’ve strained over how to deliver with honor his art unto the masses. After the initial hurdle of visual representation (in this case handled with gusto by artist Hassan Rahim), how do we directly and intentionally talk about the art we deeply love, when in reality we’re largely guided by instinct? We explore many angles, often failing along the way, until finding a final click in the combination that unlocks the floodgates. With Patrick’s album, that elusive impetus revealed itself in a literary gem that both symbolized his aggressive, melancholic, romantic, and bleak overtones, as well as synchronized his work and our task with a metaphor so grand it justified putting these words to paper. In the deeply British poem of despair and hope, 'Comus: A Mask Presented at Ludlow Castle', John Milton immortalized the classic idiom of the “silver lining”, and we find comfort in this transaction between struggle and what the poet considered divine intervention. Our bout of procrastination that brewed a cloud over the art may too tout a silver lining, the time that’s elapsed clearing a path for the album to exist in its rightful place, as opposed to fighting for a voice at an overcrowded table. In hindsight, this final hurdle might have only existed because without it, there is no glory, no resolution, but as all the pieces click and we collectively cross the finish line, Patrick Conway’s once captive 'Cellular Housekeeping' is now truly released.

Something wicked this way comes. Following singles 'Know The Future' b/w 'Digital Warfare' in 2019 and 'Hypersocial' b/w 'Safety Test' in 2020, ESP’s own Patrick Conway has now teamed up with the illustrious Appleblim (of Skull Disco and Apple Pips fame) for a meaty self-titled debut 2xLP under the new collaborative moniker, Trinity Carbon. There is something to be said for art created in the face of global unraveling, while mass transgression and the friction of culture shifting produce poignant commentary, but more often than not, it’s the personal coping mechanisms within our work that have the power to speak directly to the receiver. After a number of sessions resulting in wild imaginative beginnings, it was the untimely passing of Andrew Weatherall and a coming to terms with that loss that moved the two Brits-via-Berlin to herd their roaming sketches into a more narrative statement. In the uphill struggle to retain some sense of individualism, it’s always outsiders like Weatherall whose risks illuminate the roads of creativity less traveled, and when those beacons go dark there is a disorientation felt far and wide. Conway and Blim concede to the internal inquiry, “What would Weatherall do?” bringing to mind the man’s pervading morale, always soldiering onward through mediocrity, as it was undoubtedly an impetus for the duo growing steadfast and chiseling 'Trinity Carbon' into completion. While employing trusted machines in the bass department, they established a warm euphonic home base from which they could stray in a variety of tonal and rhythmic directions without straining a tether to the album’s core. However, as soon as any hint of familiarity may arise, or listeners begin to mentally assign stylistic epithets, the duo boldly change course to remind us that while the banal stay safely defined, it’s the iconoclasts, the outsiders who make us feel.

On steady rise following two sublime singles over the past year—Sagano b/w Haru Wa Akebono and Karakuri b/w Michinoku—Tokyo-based artist Hoshina Anniversary elaborates his eccentric musical point-of-view even further with a debut album for the ESP Institute entitled Jomon. Fourteen tracks stir a melting pot in line with our obsessions, a variety of styles which often stay in their own dedicated lanes while here their trajectories collide in demonstrable fusion. Hoshina gleans borderline absurdist qualities from late Jazz hero Chick Corea (evident in his wild and meticulous keyboard runs), calls upon ancient Japanese instruments, shrines and mythologies, and makes sideways nods to early minimal synth productions, yet all of the above are sifted through some granular equalization, an abstract veil that smooths the skin of Hoshina's mutant creation. A weight of experience pervades throughout, a requisite education in the electronic realm and a deep reverence for Jazz and its masters, and in turn this confidence transfers a sense of ease which leaves us poring over alternative approaches to otherwise familiar tropes. Once this conversation with the music is established, a subliminal push/pull tension toys with us across the length of the album, undulating our sense of space. The tonally rich, dynamic and melodic side of the works present a cool sense of depth but are violently contrasted by a slew of over-saturated punches, and at some point an inevitable alchemy casts these disparate expressions into a haunting monolithic array. Some are glistening and smooth, others are porous and jagged, but all amount to a staunch and cohesive work with the ability to transport listeners to regions unknown.

Afrikan Sciences carry the torch and grant the sight. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. On the A side, 'The New Dun Language' shows us the meaning of loose. Literally everything about this masterpiece takes its time and operates in its own space, rhythms work together but stand apart, timbres inherently laidback are made aggressively present, like the diffused attack of a shaker that’s shook with such purpose it’s no longer granular but razor sharp. The soundstage drops all around you like percussion shrapnel, splitting your attention every which way, while the string lines remind you that no matter how deep inside your head you’ve gone, there is always a nearby exit to the comforts of familiarity.

Flip the record over, however, and the track 'In His Convenient Way' will even further discombobulate your sense of self. Do you have dreams you’re on a merry-go-round and with each revolution you try to hop off, but you can’t? Each time you cycle around, the tension grows and grows? Well, this is like that, menacing but not dark, a demented odyssey through an impossibly thick swamp where you swear the trees are whispering to you but can’t quite understand their language, yet still you manage to communicate. As the time passes, and you near end of the track, the impenetrable veil slowly lifts and you realize you’ve been in control all along. These two songs will two songs will help to contemplate, heal and transcend.